


The New Recruit

by Mulberrywest



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Army, First Kiss, Mutual Pining, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26110522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mulberrywest/pseuds/Mulberrywest
Summary: Takes place some months after the end of Lethal White. Robin finds herself going under cover on an army base trying to find out the reason for a spate of mysterious deaths.
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

I’m so tired of playing  
Playing with this bow and arrow  
Gonna give my heart away  
Leave it to the other girls to play  
For I’ve been a temptress too long  
Just give me a reason to love you.

Glory Box - Portishead

“Put your back into it, Robin – I’ve seen grandmothers do a more convincing job that that!” the Sergeant Major yelled at her. She grabbed the slippery, wet rope again and tried to get purchase on the wall with her feet by swinging up – finally she managed to get a foothold and pulled herself up to the top of the imposing facade. She hooked her fingertips over the ledge and heaved herself over the obstacle, falling down heavily on the other side, only to sink into cold, deep mud as she hit the ground. “Early bath for you!” the Sergeant sneered.

“Come on,” shouted Catriona, the athletic Scots woman who dropped down by her side seconds later, “We’re nearly there, just dig in. Don’t let the bastard see it’s hurting.”

It had been over a week now that Venetia Robin, as she was called on this assignment, had joined the ranks of the recruits at Brookwood military camp in leafy Surrey. She had relished the prospect of another undercover assignment but the brutal early mornings, communal barracks and relentless physical torment had made her reconsider her enthusiasm.

Strike had been unsure whether it was a good idea. The job was well paid but also highly confidential and not without risk. She remembered the day she had come back from lunch to find him locked in his office with Lieutenant Colonel Walton, a former colleague from the SIB. The meeting had lasted for hours – it was unusual as it was unscheduled and she had had to disturb them half way through to remind Strike that he had other appointments later that afternoon. “Come in, Robin,” he gestured. “Chris, let me introduce you to my partner, Robin. If we take this on, it would require both of us.” Walton then outlined to her the issues they had been experiencing at Brookwood, the suspicious spate of apparent suicides that had plagued the base in quick succession and the inability of the SIB to really get to the bottom of what was happening. At the very worst it was criminal, at the least it was the result of gross negligence or poor leadership that could not be tolerated in the military.

“I know the army,” Strike confided in her after their last client had left late that afternoon. “In these sorts of circumstances they pull together, it can be quite brutal – I don’t like the idea of you being on the inside on your own. It’s too dangerous.”

“You promised Corm – you wouldn’t treat me differently. We need to take this job on. If you could do it yourself, I know you would. Let me do this – for us, for the agency.”

He relented. And so it was that she found herself exhausted and shivering after eight straight hours on a route march over the moors followed by an assault course through the woody marshes. She had found the whole experience disorientating – some nights, the Major would wake them in the early hours to be interrogated and then, in the day time, they would face constant drills. She felt nausea as well as extreme physical exhaustion.

Strike had warned her that mobile phones would be sealed away during the first wave of training, so they had agreed that her contact with Strike would be by the public pay phone at the barracks. She called him in the evenings after dinner in the cook house when she could – the queues were often long and there were always others around, making it difficult to talk.

“Hey,” she said, yawning, leaning against the corridor wall, her body aching, “It’s me.” Two other female recruits were loitering behind her, impatient for the phone. “How are you?” he said, lying on his back on the bed in his flat in Denmark Street, listening intently to her voice. “OK… but I miss you,” she said softly. It was part of her cover story, he knew, but he had felt an involuntary shiver through his body when he heard her murmur these words in his ear. He pulled himself together and concentrated on loosening his prosthesis. “I’m going to ask you some questions – answer yes, no or give me a first letter.” “OK” she giggled breathily, eyeing the waiting queue to see if she recognised anyone. “Do you think Furnley is the problem?” Strike asked. “No, baby.” she cooed. “Weston?” “Mmm – maybe.” Robin replied. “Is that a yes?” “Mmm yes.” “Do you think it is bullying or worse?” “Maybe the second,” she sighed. One of the other girls was getting restless and tapped her watch. “Baby, I am going to have to go, speak to you tomorrow, I hope. Love you,” she sighed into the receiver.

“I’m going to try to come in,” he garbled before she ended the call, “it is getting too dangerous.”

He heard the click of the receiver as Robin hung up the phone at the other end.


	2. R and R

It's only you  
Who can tell me apart  
And it's only you  
Who can turn my wooden heart

Portishead – Only You

It was Friday night and the majority of the soldiers had either gone into Camberley or stayed on base for drinks. New recruits had to stay on the base for the first month while they underwent their basic training. Robin and Catriona made their way into the bar beside the Mess. It reminded Robin of the village halls she had grown up with, a curtained area around the entrance to stop the draught and an area of raised seating to the left of a basic lacquered wooden dance floor.

“…it’s going well with her but I am just not really sure whether I can see it long term.” Catriona opined confidentially. “How about you, Venetia?” “Hmm?” Robin said absently. “Is Cameron of the long phone calls your soul mate?” “Yes – I think so,” Robin said automatically, removing her coat. “I just don’t know that he knows it yet.” As they walked into the bar, avoiding the stares of sundry military personnel who were curious about the new intake of recruits, she had to do a double take. There, sitting to the left of the bar at a high table, was a man who was the spitting image of Strike, in full military uniform, clean shaven and with neat military grade hair. He was deep in conversation with another man, also in the same uniform, but who was a little older and with hair greying at the temples. Robin momentarily froze as she locked eyes with the younger of the two men, who she had now established was undoubtedly Strike himself.

“Pint?” Catriona wondered, “or are you more of a wine drinker.”  
“Wine – a glass of Chenin Blanc please,” Robin replied, regaining her composure. “Can you make it a large one – I think I need it!” The women took their drinks from the squat young, tattooed soldier behind the bar and moved away to a circular booth next to the dance floor. More recruits joined Robin and Catriona, a short well-built blonde woman in a tight lurex dress called Laura, and a tall, elegant black woman named Carmen. “I think we deserve this!” smiled Carmen, reclining. It had been a tough week and the women had fallen into an easy camaraderie, and were keen for a well-earned release. “Do you think Furnley ever relaxes?” Laura giggled. “He’s really buff but…” “If you ignore his permanent scowl” said Carmen with a raised eyebrow. More off duty service personnel entered the bar now and the volume of the music started to increase, with one or two brave souls taking to the slightly raised dance floor to the left of the bar. As the women downed their drinks, Laura headed to the bar with a wink and returned with another round and four tequilla shots. Robin finished her glass of wine and joined her companions as they downed their shots.

An hour had now passed since they first arrived and Robin glanced over to the bar, catching Strike’s eye as he chatted to his companion. Did he want her to make contact with him, she wondered. Another moment and then he unambiguously winked at her “Look at him, making eyes at you Venetia, you are most definitely in there. Taxi!” laughed Catriona, gesturing over at Strike. Carmen wheeled round to take a look, “I would if you’re not interested. Finally someone who is my height!” “Hands off,” said Robin with a flushed smile, “He winked at me first! Another drink, anyone?”

She strode purposefully to the bar as the other women watched her with interest. With her back to them she ordered the drinks. Strike moved over to her tentatively and stood next to her as though ready to order at the bar. “Can I buy you these, Private …?” he leaned in to ask her. “Robin” she played along, “Venetia Robin” Robin’s audience were fully alert now – eyes locked in on the developing action at the bar. “And I won’t say no if you are offering – you know it is a full round for my friends though, don’t you?” she said gesturing behind her to the girls at her table. “It would be my pleasure,” he said, then hesitated. “But it would give me even more pleasure if you’d come and dance with me after,” he grinned.

“Alright then, you’ve earned yourself a dance,” she said, with a laugh, “I’m curious to see your moves…”.

The barman finished pouring the pint of lager and glanced up to take in the seemingly unconnected couple at the bar– smarmy bastard he thought. He snatched Strike’s £20 in exchange for the round of drinks and returned with a few pennies change.

As Robin deposited the drinks on the table, she half turned to see Strike following her. The other women looked up amused, “Evening ladies,” he said. “Would you mind if I borrowed your friend for a turn on the dance floor – I’ve got two left feet so it really won’t last long!”

Robin could barely conceal her mirth and the women made expansive gestures indicating that they had no objection.

Strike took Robin’s hand lightly and led her to the, by now, crowded dance floor. He placed one hand around her waist and the other on her bare shoulder. He leant in “You OK? You haven’t been in touch for a few days. I’ve been a bit concerned.”

“Mmm,” she said. “It’s been tough – they have woken us in the night for manoeuvres and Weston has picked certain recruits off for interrogation.”

As the other dancers whirled near to them, Robin pulled herself in closer to Strike’s body and whispered in his ear. “I think there is something odd about the weapons store too – you could easily get a gun out of there without it being monitored properly.” He moved his hand to her face and stroked it gently to get her to look at him, “We need to get you out of here now.”

The tempo of the music started to change now, as a new song reverberated from the speakers and the insistent pulse of a disco beat started to fill the dance floor. Strike let his hand fall from Robin’s waist and he took her hand to lead her off the dance floor. Observing the group of women pretending not to look over but clearly rapt by their activities, he moved a strand of hair from Robin’s face and stopped by a pillar, making obvious signs of trying to find something in his pockets. “I am going to go outside for a smoke – do you want to join me for some fresh air, Venetia?” he grinned. “OK,” Robin said turning to follow him and then looking back to smile conspiratorially at her friends. The women giggled and rolled their eyes.

As Robin and Strike moved outside, they could see the impression of their breath and that of the other smokers huddled by the entrance in the cold air. “Not a smoker, are you Robin?” sneered the Sergeant Major at the door as she passed him, “You’ll be in need of all the puff you can get next week.”

Strike manoeuvred her to the far side of the outside wall and took out his cigarettes. “Here,” he said, taking off his jacket as he saw her shiver. More smokers came out to replace those who had left and two older men emerged and stood close to Strike and Robin to chat.  
“You’re looking very smart,” she whispered, and moved her hand up to touch his smooth cheek. “Needs must.” he replied taking a final drag on the cigarette. “So what is the benefit of you staying – we have enough leads for them already, don’t we?” he asked quietly.

“I would just like to see what happens in the room where Weston interrogates the recruits – that seems to be the trigger for a lot of these events.” she whispered in his ear. He threw the butt of his cigarette on the floor and pulled her tightly to him, away from the other smokers. Her pulse was racing, and she felt as though her breath had been extinguished. He ran his fingers up the back of her slender neck, entangling them slightly in her red gold hair. ”Too dangerous” he sighed in her ear, his hands now gripped tightly around her waist, aware of the fine seam of her knickers beneath the flimsy fabric of her jumpsuit. “I think another few days would be enough to get Weston,” she whispered, turning her mouth to his ear so there was no chance of being overheard. She placed her arm around his neck and then moved slowly against him so that the soft undulating form of her breasts was unmistakeably nestled directly against his chest. “Robin…” he sighed despite himself and, making contact with her ear again, found himself involuntarily nuzzling it with his nose and then taking the lobe between his tongue and lips and kissing it gently. The sudden shock and unexpected pleasure that coursed through Robin’s body were electric. “Please don’t stop,” she begged, “don’t stop.”.


End file.
